Come back to me
by Aqua-Chorus
Summary: An uncomfortable sadness seeps into my bones. My mum is slipping away from me in some unnatural, painful way. She is somehow trapping me and shutting me out at the same time, and there is no help for either of us.' How will Namine cope?
1. Fall from the balcony

I do not own any of the characters (except my own) in the story they belong to square enix and Disney, blah blah blah...please not that this is my first attempt and hope you like

Namine's P.O.V

xXx

"Mum! What are you doing? Get down from there!"

I slam the door, drop my backpack and rush across the living room.

One of mum's feet is curled over the tenth floor balcony railing, the other is tiptoe on the top of a small stepladder. One hand is around the chain of the empty hanging basket. The screw that holds the basket is coming loose from its plastic socket in the ceiling. I can see the crumbling white dist.

"Mum!" I shout up at her, disturbing images of possible outcomes flashing through my head as she sways. "Get down! Please, please get down."

She stares blankly. For a spilt second, I follow her gaze over the treetops to where a white ribbon of water was flowing through innocent, unborn ditches down the hillside, whilst the soon-to-set sun was shining in the sky in all its glory.

A sudden gust of cold February wind grabs at her long blonde hair, and she sways even more. I slap my hands tightly over my mouth. If I startle her, she might slip. I think I'm going to be sick...

The phone rings. I can't leave her. Another ring.

Mum twirls on the balls of her feet and leaps gracefully to the floor of the balcony. She sends me an innocent smile and heads for the phone. I struggle to bring my breathing back to normal as I follow, locking the balcony doors behind me. I stare at the patches of ice along the metal racks and wonder how she managed to open the sliding doors in the first place.

"Hello, Eileen speaking," she says, her voice light and controlled. "Yes, Mr Bryant, I'm fine. No, no, you're not bothering me. I was just enjoying the view."

I study her carefully as she talks. What's going on? She's my old mum, the one who teaches grade 4, the one who can be calm and sparkling at the same time, the one who is always in control. The person on the edge of the balcony had definitely not been in control.

Mum lowers herself into one of the pink wingback chairs and crosses her legs. "Thank you for being so understanding, Mr Bryant. Not all principals would be, I'm sure. Yes, no doubt you are right, Mr Bry- I mean Tom. It's likely just stress. Yes, sir. Tom. I'll take care of myself goodbye."

She drops the receiver into the cradle as if it was as if it were covered in something unpleasant and wipes her hands across the front of her white tracksuit. Then, as if suddenly remembering I exsist, she comes over and hugs me.

"Namine, you're home. Is it that late? What time is it anyway?" She squints at the dome clock on the piano.

"Three-thirty," I answer, trying not to look at the pile of music books. I won't think about my grade six conservatory exam coming up. "What were you doing on the balcony just now?"

"What's that, Namine?"

She's stalling.

"What were you doing on the balcony?"

"Like I told Mr Bryant. I mean Tom. I'm to call him Tom even though he's only been at our school since, since, gosh..." She stops running water into the kettle. "Since Christmas."

"You always call him Tom. You said he told the staff to call him Tom on his very first day."

"Oh," she says, going as pink as the living room chairs. She puts the kettle on the stove and... Wait we have an electric kettle...

"Mum, what are you doing!?"

"Why, I'm making tea, Namine. I've been craving for it all morning."

"Erm, mum that's an electric kettle."

She looks at he as if I am mad and continues turning on the heat.

"Mum! The kettle will melt!" She weren't listening.

"Mum!" I yank the kettle off the heat causing the water to pour out, spending across the floor. Mum looks at the water on the floor and then looks at me, with a very annoyed expression.

"Namine!! What do you think you are doing!!"

"Mum..."

"Stop shouting!" She screamed and walked out of the kitchen to fetch a mop. Why did she just shout at me. I didn't do anything wrong! She was going to melt the flipping kettle! Feeling extremely annoyed, decide to take some air outside. The door slams behind me as I run down the apartment buildings long hallway.

I stand in the empty elevator, blow my nose and dab my eyes. In the mirror tiles, my reflection looks very grumpy. I stare back with gloomy grey-blue eyes at my fine blonde hair that hangs down past my shoulders. A tear runs down my cheek. I look so much like my dad it hurts; except I have blonde hair. Old questions hurl back into my brain. Why did he leave? Would everything be different, or better, if he'd stuck it out with us? I swallow back tears as the elevator doors whoosh open at the lobby.

Outside, if you follow the end of the road and turn up at Twilight Grove, it takes you up to sunset hill. Cars fly by and a bus whines down to a noisy halt at the stop. But there's no one walking. It's cold.

I walk up to sunset hill and seat myself in one of the vacant benches. The view looks beautiful especially when the sun sets, the colours beautifully mix into each other like paints on a palate. The image of mum on the edge, literally, on the edge of the balcony, swims in front of my eyes. What if I hadn't come home when I did? Would she have let go and fallen? It's too bizarre. I shiver. Maybe I shiver. Maybe I should have been more sympathetic, but I was sure she was going to jump and that scared me. Why did she do that? Was because of something I did? Was she worried that she had lost control of her, darling daughter. I am almost fifteen, I am my own person but...Maybe...I don't know. I must be because of the divorce, it has to be. Or...stress?

"Carful, Grandma Chii," says a voice. "It might be slippery."

Startled, I turn to see the tiniest old woman. She is hidden beneath a hat, hood and long coat. Her dark, empty eyes stare over a yellow scarf. She takes tentative steps while people, one on either side, hover anxiously.

"Hello." Her voice is deep and raspy. "Good to see you again."

"Come on now, mother." The younger woman's smile is apologetic.

The person on the other side looks up, and my breath catches in my throat. It's Roxas Hinogami from my grade. He's new to my school. He's smart. He's gorgeous. Unfortunately, He's also oblivious to girls and painfully shy. When he realizes it's me, he stops.

"Hi," I say quietly

"Hi, Namine." He dosen't meet my eyes.

"Namine!" Grandma Chii cries, her face animated. " Does this mean you and Roxas are dating again? I'm so pleased. He talks about you the time!"

"He...does?" I gasp.

Roxas's already rosy cheeks flush scarlet. He tugs on her sleeve. " Let's keep moving. It's cold out here."

The youngest woman, who I figure is Roxas's mother, pats my arm. "Dont mind her."

Roxas struggles to get his grandmother to along the path further down the hill and away from his embarrassment. My mouth is still hanging open when he glances back.

I watch as they cross go down the hill and get into a white car parked on the opposite road. Grandma Chii thinks that Roxas and I are dating. What a rush! But where would she get an idea like that? Has he really been talking about me? Maybe there was some other Namine at his old school. Maybe...

What a totally weird day!

xXx

Well... done. I'd really like to hear (or see - o.0)your thoughts. Your comments are REALLY appreciated 8D They would make me really happy!! So I'll try to update soon, if people like it Thank you so much for reading D


	2. What? A heart full of regret

Thank you to E Muja SN and TN and mrs.Charlotte.K.jonas for reviewingyayz a St. Valentine's update! Happy valentine's day!! Hope you'll enjoy this chapter and more people will hopefully review

xXx

Mum is not home when I get back from sunset hill. My stomach knots. I fly to the sliding doors. They are locked and freezing up again, but I open them, go onto the balcony and scan the parking lot. For what? Blood? The hideously mangled body of my mother? The chalk outline left by investigating police? Nothing.

Back in the apartment, I check the kettle. It has been emptied and returned to its place in the cupboard by the sink. Am I getting paranoid or what?

Then I see the note propped against the clock. "Dear Namine, Gone for a walk. Don't wait supper for me. Warm up some pizza. Love, Mum."

A walk. That's good. Walking relieves stress. And I don't mind pizza two days in a row. It sure beats mum's gourmet cooking. Recently, very few dishes have turned out. I rummage in the fridge behind the plastic containers of singed couscous, overcooked fettuccine, and soggy shrimp salad (eww) and find the pizza.

I zap two pieces of pizza in the microwave (although mum always used to tell that if I use the microwave I'd get radioactive poisoning) and pour a glass of orange juice. It's time to call Olette.

"Hey kiddo," she says. "And what fine exotic speciality are you chowing down tonight?"

"Leftover pizza."

"Homemade, no doubt."

"Nope. Bought. Delivered."

"You're kidding? Your mother actually ordered pizza?" She giggles. "is she sick? I've known you guys since we were seven years old and you've never ordered in anything."

I sip my orange juice daintily while I listen – I hate when people slurp. Olette definitely has a point about my mother.

"Oh well," she continues. "No doubt the napkins are folded and the table perfectly set."

I interrupt. "She drove dad nuts when she started doing that. But she hasn't been so compulsively neat since he left." Which, I realise, was about the time my mother began acting strange. Even her regular cleaning routines became less frequent.

"She needs to get a life," says Olette.

"Speaking of which, Mum almost threw hers away today," I say and launch into an account of the balcony scene and mum's denial. I can almost taste my bitterness.

Olette lets out a sympathetic whistle. "What did you do?"

I tell her about going to sunset hill, about Roxas Hinogami and his grandma Chii. Olette shrieks with delight. "That's incredible! We'll have to go meet up with him sometime."

"No, we won't. (Although I wouldn't particularly mind) We'll leave him alone. I think his grandmother is a bit crazy."

Grandma Chii's empty eyes haunt me.

"Poor Roxas," Olette says. "Sounds like your mum is a little crazy herself." She makes an angry, snorting sound. "What is it with mothers these days? Mine's in bed, sleeping it off. Dad's home for a couple of days, though. She doesn't get so bad when he's around."

Another silence. Then. "How's your dad? Heard from him lately?"

The piece of pizza in my mouth loses all flavour.

"No."

"Sorry. He's probably just real busy."

"Whatever."

Olette adored my dad. We used to have so much fun with him. Olette was always included when we went skating or bowling or to restaurants. Then he walked out – two years ago. Olette and I both lost.

Olette's voice became brighter. "When do you think your mum might be going to the ballet again? Maybe I could come along, like before?"

"I don't know," I reply curtly. "We don't seem to do anything "like before" any more."

"Well, we're old enough to go out by ourselves now. We'll go without her." She pauses. "I'd better go. Mummy dearest is yelling. Don't drip any pizza sauce on that nice clean floor of yours. Bye."

I stare out of the window, across the river, over sunset hill and on the vast twilight horizon. Good old Olette. Always trying to cheer me up.

To take my mind off things, I plunk myself down on the piano bench and work my way through Hanon exercises, scales, triads, and arpeggios. I get stuck on a tricky left-hand in my sonatina and have a go over and over and over it. I get it if I go slowly. It's only because of the dome clock chiming six that I know how long I've been practising. Three-quarters of an hour. Not nearly enough.

I work through two more pieces before the door knocker sounds. I open the door to find Mrs Lockhart peering at me. Her long black hair was let down loose and she was wearing a white robe and a pair of black slippers.

I can see beyond her into apartment across the hall. The easy chair is covered with a yellow afghan. Cigarette smokes curls up from a ceramic ashtray on the arm – a fire waiting to happen. An advert for adult diapers is playing on her TV.

To my surprise, she smiles."I know we agreed that you'd stop practising by six o'clock, but this isn't about your piano. Is your mother home?"

"No."

"Oh shit...I was hoping she was," cries Mrs Lockhart. "I was hoping it wasn't her I saw out of my window."

"What?" I squeak.

"Well, for the last while, every time I look out of my window I can see this figure walking back and forth, up and down." She pauses. "You know I may just be seeing things but I thought the person might be Eileen – except why would she be walking back and forth, up and down?"

I dash into Mrs Lockhart's smoke-filled living room and go straight to her window. Her apartment overlooks the sweeping front drive up to our block. A blonde woman wearing a white tracksuit is walking, with her arms folded, towards the front door. As I stand there, she turns and walks back up the street. She stops, pivots, looks around. What is she doing?

Mrs Lockhart is behind me. "I hope you don't think I'm nosy but yeah...I was just wondering if that was a new exercise craze or something. It is Eileen, right? She ain't wearing a jacket?" She lets out sigh and leans against a wall. "She must be freezing."

I nod because I can't speak. The words are trapped in my throat. I mutter my thanks and leave. I grab my parka, one for mum, and the spare keys from the hook. The elevator is its usual slow self, but eventually I get to the main floor and out into the chilly evening.

Mum is poised where the sidewalk ends and the stairs to the new bridge begin. Her back is to me.

"Hi," I say, forcing a broad grin.

She spins around. "Huh?"

"I said, hi, how's it going?" and I add, "Mum."

She squints. "Oh, it's you. I didn't see you."

"Tired of walking yet?" I ask, slipping her parka across her shoulders. "Are you cold?"

"You know, Namine, I am," she answers. "I was just thinking I should be getting back."

"Let's go in," I suggest. "It's past six-thirty. You must be starving."

"Yes, yes. Starving. What time is it?"

I gently push her ahead of me. That's twice today she's asked me the time – but she has in her green contact lenses and could easily have looked at her wristwatch. Besides, I just told her.

Before the elevator reaches our floor, she is completely herself. We acknowledge Mrs Lockhart before she pulls her head back into her apartment.

The phone rings and mum answers it. Her boot drop snow-covered gravel on the carpet. I follow on my hands and knees picking up as much of the mess as I can. I want her happy. Happiness might relieve stress.

"Hello. Eileen speaking," she says in her singsong manner. She pulls off her boots, and because I am right there, she smiles and hands them to me. She sits on the nearest chair while I put our boots neatly in the closet.

"Oh, it's you." There's only one person she would speak to in that guarded tone of voice. Kosuke Saehara. My father. The man I have to see when it's mutually convenient, which is less often. After a few seconds she says, "Do you think it would be possible for you to come over? We need to talk. Wednesday's good. Thank you. Yes, Namine's here."

My jaw drops. Come over? She's always handed me over to him in the parking lot of the burger place at the end of the street. She gives me the receiver and heads for the bathroom, but not before I notice her tears.

I don't try to hide my surprise. "So, Dad, you're coming to see us."

"I reckon I am," he answers. "This is a first, her asking me over. But how are you, Namine? How is everything?"

I don't know what to say. I can't seem to get a clear picture in my mind, so I give him my mum's least favourite F-word. "Fine."

0o0

After Dad's visit, I find myself in a corner booth in the burger place with the remains of a vanilla milkshake. The place is crowded. Olette said she's come if she could get away, but she's an hour late. Night has already turned the window into a mirror. While I wait, I stew about my parents meeting.

Dad had said "Hi, Namine" and given me his usual charming but distant smile when he walked into our apartment. He had a soft look on his tanned face as he let his fingers drag along the back of the couch. Then his mouth hardened into a thin line when mum entered and glared at him as though he was an intruder.

Her face was nothing compared to his stunned yet furious expression when Mum said, "What are you doing here?"

He looked at me. All I could do was shrug.

"You asked me to come, Eileen," he said in a cool tone. "What is it you wanted to talk about?"

Mum seemed flustered. "Pardon?"

Dad managed a wry smile. "I could ask you the same thing." Again, he turned to me. "What's going on?"

Mum crossed her arms. "Well, as long as you're here, you may as well sit down."

Dad perched uneasily on the arm of the couch. At first they talked about the weather, then about the weather on Destiny Island. To be fair to Dad, he tried to keep the conversation flowing. Mum basically stared off into space, occasionally nodding and making some small comment. I did my bit. I even chatted about school and my junior high graduation in June.

And then Mum leaped up from her seat and went to the front door. "Nice of you to drop by. Goodnight," she said. Dad raised his eyebrow but didn't agrue.

I ran behind him as he marched to the elevator. "Don't mind her," I said. "She's under a lot of stress."

"I don't know what she's under," he replied, understandably annoyed. "I just wish she's quit playing these stupid mind games. She's getting worse if you ask me. At least she didn't withdraw into herself like she does sometimes. That drives me crazy."

"Maybe you could've stayed longer – tried harder to find out why she wanted you to come over," I suggested. "It might've been important."

"She hates me. Pure and simple."

"She doesn't hate you," I argued. "You could've tried-"

The elevator arrived and he stepped in, cutting me off mid-sentence. "It was nice to see you, Namine. I'll call you."

"When?" I asked.

He smiled slightly.

As the doors whooshed shut, I yelled, "You should've tried harder! You give up too soon!"

But he was gone.

Mum was in the shower by the time I got back to the apartment. Lucky for her! I had a few choice questions for her, like what the heck did she think she was doing? She had invited dad over. Why had she acted like he was some complete stranger who'd barged in?

I wrote Mum a note to let her know I was going out, then called Olette and started to tell her what had happened, but she couldn't talk. Family crisis. She could probably meet me later at the restaurant. I'm still waiting.

"Mind if we sit?"

The black window mirror shows there are kids standing at the table. I'm not in the mood for company other than Olette's, and certainly not in the mood for these particular kids.

Before I can answer, Kairi motions for her group to slide in, Kairi – Snow queen, untouchable, cool and beautiful, with her crimson coloured hair, dark blue eyes and pale skin.

Selphie sends me a stony glare. I'm in a stony mood myself and have no trouble returning the look, but in a way I feel sorry for Selphie. She's coloured her brown hair some sick, nasty red colour and pastes her face with white make-up base, but she still can't hide her red cheeks. She also can't hide the fact that she's nothing more than a Kairi wanna-be. Next comes Rikku – mid-length golden blonde hair and green eyes. The guys drool over her, but they worship Kairi. Most girls would do anything to be part of this group. I am not one of them.

Sora Tsurumi drags a chair over and leans his elbows on the table. Brown hair sticks out from under his baseball cap. He winks at me and chomps on some fries. My cheeks burn. Sora has been the most popular boy forever – except that any kid with half a brain knows he's a jerk.

The only decent one is Hayner Harada. What he's doing with these idiots, I don't know. He flashes me a bright smile and I smile back. Olette would kill to be here. She thinks he's beautiful, with his bewitching eyes and confident, cocky attitude. But she'd turn into a babbling idiot, she'd be so nervous. I, on the other hand, would kill to get out of this corner.

"Hey there, Namine," Hayner says. "We just won our game."

Sora tips his chair back. "Hayner here just wanted to hang out with the leading goal scorer in the league. That's why he's here."

"Absolutely!" Hayner slaps Sora on the shoulder.

Kairi raises her eyebrow at me. "Don't usually see you out alone."

"You look nice...different," adds Selphie.

"Thanks." I manage to stop my hands from running over the zippers of my new black vinyl jacket of from playing with my long blonde fringe.

"Namine, do you want a burger?" asks Hayner.

I shake my head and watch the people getting off the bus. No Olette.

"Hey we're talking to you!" cries Sora, reaching out and poking my arm.

"How'd you do on that science test?" Hayner asks.

Sora doesn't give up. "Roxas Hinogami got ninety-seven. Did you beat him?" It's like a challenge.

I think about not answering, but then Sora would assume Roxas beat me and he'd tell everybody. I clear my throat.

"Ninety-eight."

Sora's laugh is victorious. "See, Kairi. I told you she was smater than old cousin Roxas."

"Shut up!" snaps Kairi.

"He's your cousin?" My eyes widen with surprise.

Sora grins. "Yeah, second cousin. So my parents tell me I have to be nice to him."

Rikku tosses her gold hair. "I still think Roxas is smarter."

I want out of here. Now! I push slightly against Kairi. "Excuse me. I'd like to go to the washroom. Could you please move?"

"Hey," says Kairi, "we just wanted to see if the queen of the study hall had been beaten by the new kid. Relax!" I'm shocked when she pats me gently on the wrist.

"Fine." I answer, refusing to go all mushy just because she sat beside me. "But I need to go to the washroom. And then I have to get home."

She shrugs and slides out.

0o0

The next morning. Sora nudges me in the crowded school corridor. He winks and points to his hair, which is blue. He blows imaginary smoke from an imaginary gun and strolls off.

"Whoa," giggles Olette. "What was that all about?"

"Oh, nothing."

She flips her brown hair over her shoulder and leans into my face. "What do you mean "nothing"? Something must've made Sora Tsurumi crawl out from under his rock!"

I roll my eyes. "How would I know?"

She sneers after him. "And did you see his hair? It weren't blue yesterday."

"And tomorrow it will probably be green." My eyes follow his bobbing blue head until it disappears. "And next week, fire-engine red. The week after he'll be bald when his hair falls out from all the stripping and dyeing."

She laughs. I don't. We walk in science, me in grey skinny jeans, black long sleeved hoodie with simple plan written on it and pair of black converses . My hair tied into a loose ponytail. Olette is in runners, blue jeans and a save the whales sweat-shirt. As we reach the classroom, she turns to me.

"Do I detect a slight aura of depression here, or what? And you still haven't really explained the Sora thing. Time to 'fess up!"

"Oh, all right. He and Kairi sat with me last night when _you_didn't show up!"

Her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "And you didn't call me? You didn't tell me?" She sighs as if controlling her temper "Oh, never mind. So what happened?"

"Shhh," I whisper, "don't tell the _whole_world. It wasn't a big deal. I was waiting for you." I pause. "And Hayner was there."

"No way!" she squeals.

My face grows warm when I realize why I haven't told her. I would have to leave out how good Sora's praise made me feel I can't look at her. Instead, I stare at Roxas Hinogami as he makes his way down the hall. Our eyes meet, briefly.

Olette nudges me, mischief all over her face. "So?"

"So nothing!"

I take a deep breath and follow a giggling Olette into class. But when she see's my glum face she says, "Come one, old buddy. What's wrong?"

"Something's definitely not right with my mum," I say. "She's been changing somehow...slowly."

"Examples," barks Olette.

"It's hard to explain." I slide down in my chair and cross my arms. "It's been going on for a cople of years, but it's getting worse. It's like sometimes she doesn't see me, or doesn't know I'm there, or doesn't recognize me. She can't cook worth a darn. She loses things – keys, jacket, purse. But she hasn't really lost them. She just forgets where she puts them and then thinks they're lost or stolen. Meanwhile they're right where she left them. I think she's having some kind of eye trouble. She can't seem to tell the time. And the other day she went out for a walk."

"So, what's wrong with a walk?" asks Olette.

"She walked up and down our apartment block, over and over, and she didn't have a coat on, that's what's wrong! Then, she must not have close the shower door last night because the floor was almost flooded this morning." I swallow hard, remembering. "The toothpaste lid wasn't put back on. The toilet wasn't flushed. The towels were all over the place."

Olette peers deep into my eyes. "Our bathroom always looks like that."

"Well, ours doesn't!" My voice getting loud and people are looking at us. "And she didn't do her exercises this morning and the radio wasn't on Capital FM." Tears gather in my eyes. "But you know the real scary thing is, Olette? She didn't even get out of bed this morning. I went to see if she was OK, there she was, in her clothes from yesterday! And she screamed at me to get out."

"Ahem, Namine," Olette says in a gentle voice, "my mum is like that all the time."

"Yeah, but _your_mother is a drunk!"

She recoils as if I had slapped her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."

A voice booms from the front of the class. Mr Xemmas is waiting for everyone's attention.

"I'm really sorry." I try to touch Olette's hand, but she pulls away. She ignores me as I stare at her, the tears running down my face. I'm a traitor. I collect my books and bolt for the door. I hear Olette making an excuse for me. I lower my head and run down the hall.

Straight into the arms of Sora Tsurumi.

xXx

Okay so there you go chapter 2 please review and stuff!! And I'll be very happy XD


	3. Stay back?

Yay finally updated!! I was so caught up with my ps3 I forgot all about my story P But now I've done something. Thank you again to E Muja SN and TN and mrs.Charlotte.K.jonas for taking the time to read and review. You are really appreciated and I hope you and anyone else who'll read this will like it D Devil May Cry 4 rocks socks!!

xXx

"Why, Namine, how nice."

I sidestep. Sora steps with me.

"Hey what's up? You're crying?" His blue eyes don't quite match his hair. "Wanna talk or something?" he asks. "It's just phys. Ed . next period. I was gonna skip anyway."

"You'll get into trouble," I say, conveniently forgetting the fact that I'm about to skip class too. For the first time ever!

"No problem," he says, gently heading me to the exit. "Don't start sounding like Roxas."

He helps me on with my jacket as we walk quickly out of the side doors. I tuck my hands into my sleeves.

"You don't look like the type." He says out of the left field.

"What type is that?"

"Oh, you know, the type to wear all those zippers, the ready-to-party type." He gives me a lopsided grin. Definitely cute. "How's you get out of the house looking like this?"

"My mother wasn't paying attention. She hasn't been too worried about what I wear recently."

"Lucky you."

"Yeah, well, you can't judge a girl by her jacket." I wish I had worn my denim jacket with fringes and the lamb's-wool lining or a good sensible parka.

"It's not just the jacket," he says. "There's the well looked after face." His eyes jump to my breasts and back-up. "You're not geeky little Namine Saehara from kindergarten any more."

"Geeky?" I glare at him. "I don't need this."

"Chill." He opens the door of the little restaurant. "I'll buy you a pop or something."

I stride ahead of him to the counter and order a milkshake. He orders an entire breakfast special. We sit upstairs up the window that looks down on Nursery Gardens. I really want to talk – to tell him about my parents' divorce, my mum's weird behaviour. But Sora rambles on about the hockey season, his computer, his bike, his childhood illnesses. He seems to have forgotten he invited _me_to talk. So, I sip my milkshake and listen.

We return to school in time for lunch.

0o0

I hurry home after school. I have to pick up my music books and get to Mrs Gainsborough's for my lesson. But I keep thinking about Olette. What'll she say next time. _If_there is a next time. The look on her face. I was such a bitch.

As I step off the elevator, my guilt is replaces by a gripping fear. Our apartment door is open- not wide, but open. Have we been robbed? Where is Mum?

I press my back against the wall just outside our apartment and slowly push the door open with my fingertips, like I'm a TV police officer. The hinges squeak slightly.

My heart hammers against my rib cage. Do I go in? What if the robber is still inside? What if my mum is lying hurt somewhere? I take a deep breath and step in.

"Who's in here?" I shout. "Is anyone here?" Silence. "Mum?"

I tiptoe in, ready to run if anything's the least bit suspicious. The living room seems OK. I check my room. Neat as a pin. I squint into the bathroom. Messy-still!

I shove the door to my mum's room open with such force that it bangs against the wall. I see nothing unusual except that the sheets are off the bed and lying in a rumpled heap on the carpet.

"Namine, is that you?" Mrs Lockhart is walking into the living room, wringing her hands. "Oh, how I'm glad your home," she says breathlessly.

"Why? What's happened? Why is the door open?"

She blinks with each of my questions.

"Well, I don't wanna appear nosy but..."She gives an apologetic smile.

"Just tell me," I say curtly.

"About ten minutes ago, I started hearing a lot of banging coming from here."

"Banging?" I repeat. "What kind of banging? What do you mean by _banging_?" Whilst my mind going crazy with all sorts of disturbing thoughts.

She crosses her arms. "Banging, you know like, cupboards and doors being slammed shut." She shakes her head. "And angry voices, well, one angry voice. Your mum's."

I stare stupidly at her. "How could you hear all that?"

"I had my door open, duh," she says taken aback. "Not like I was spying or something, Miss Saehara. I was talking to a friend."

"Then what?"

"The next thing I know, Eileen, I mean, your mum whips open you door." She demonstrates. "Just whips it open. And out she cones. Now, I don't mean to, like, scare you or anything, but she just didn't seem herself. A little...wild eyed, I would say."

"Wild eyed?"

"That's right. She can't find any washing powder, she says, and is going to the store to get some."

"What? Is she nuts? We just bought a humongous tub of laundry soap, two days ago, together." I walk to the little closet where we keep the cleaning stuff. I point to the yellow tub. "See? It's right here. No way she could've missed that."

"Maybe she didn't look in here."

"But this is where we always keep it."

"Well, I wouldn't know about that," Mrs Lockhart says. "She was muttering something about the car. But I don't think she should drive. She seems very upset. Maybe you can catch her in the parking garage. She can drive you to your lesson and get the washing powder."

"We don't need more – oh, right! Good idea."

I get my music case, usher Mrs Lockhart out and fly to the elevator. It stops at the second and the third floors on its way up.

I push 'p' and hope for a speedy descent to the underground parking. No such luck. We stop on every floor. I am gnawing my lower lip by the time I get off.

"Please, please, let me see that green car. Please, please, be there."

I turn the corner. The car is right where it should be. Mum is frantically trying to get the key in the lock.

"What are you doing?" I sound as pissed off as I feel.

"Stay back," she says. Her voice shaking. Her eyes do have a wild look.

"What do you mean 'stay back'?"

"Stay back," she repeats, thrusting her key ring into my hands. "Take them. Just don't hurt me."

Tears flood into my eyes. "What? I'm not going to mug you. Oh, Mum, what's the matter with you?" She stares vacantly. Frustrated, I stamp my foot like I used to when I was little kid and not getting what I wanted. Right now, I want my mother to be herself. I want my mother to know who I am. "It's me. Namine. Your daughter! And I'm not old enough to drive. Why are you doing this?"

"Daughter? Namine! Of course." She laughs nervously and straightens her jacket. _My jacket_ – the denim one with the fringes. It's as though she's only pretending to know who I am. I don't understand. She must be sick, very very sick. I have to get her upstairs. I have to get her to a doctor. Quick!

She tosses her head and says, "I couldn't see very well. This place needs better lighting. I couldn't find the right key. I've fiddled with it so long that I've forgotten where I wanted to go."

She starts to sob, deep heartbreaking groans. I take her in my arms. She rests her head on my shoulder, which means she has to bend down a little.

"I'm so scared," she says, "I think I'm losing my mind, Namine. I'm so scared."

_She's_ scared. I'm petrified.

I stroke her hair. Usually it is silky soft and tied with a fancy bow. Today it looks as though it hasn't seen a brush for months.

"Shhh, shhh. It's all right. Let's go upstairs and I'll make us some tea."

"OK," she says, like a three year old, sniffing and wiping her nose across the sleeve of my denim jacket. She is composed by the time we reach out apartment. Mrs Lockhart is hovering in the hallway.

"Oh great, you caught up with her," she says, smiling broadly. "Now you can go to your piano lesson."

Mum turns to me, puzzled. "You have piano? Today?"

"It's Thursday, Mum."

"Well, then. You should get going." She nods towards the elevator.

"I'm going to call Mrs Gainsborough and tell her I'm not coming. You are not well."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm fine."

"No, you're not!"

"Namine! Don't talk to me like that." That wild look has returned to her eyes.

Mrs Lockhart pipes up. "Go to your lesson, Namine. I can stay with Eileen until you get back."

"I'm not staying with you!" shouts mum, her cheeks growing scarlet. "I don't know you."

Mrs Lockhart clamps her hand over mum's mouth. I see understanding in her eyes, and a little annoyance.

"Mum, Mrs Lockhart is only trying to help."

"I don't want her in my house," she says turning her back.

"But, Eileen," chimes Mrs Lockhart in a stroke of genius, "Surely you remember inviting me for coffee this afternoon. Oh please...don't tell me you've forgotten."

Mum brings herself to her full height. I wait for her to chew the lady's head off. Instead, she gives us both a glowing smile. My mother has never invited Mrs Lockhart or any other neighbour in for coffee – she guards her privacy – but she's so screwed up she'd rather take Mrs Lockhart's word for it than appear rude and stupid.

"How silly of me," she says, "Do come in. And don't mind the mess. I was changing the sheets on my bed."

"I know," says Mrs Lockhart. "Perhaps you'll allow me to help you with that while the coffee's brewing." She pushes my mum ahead of her and then whispers over to me, "Off you go, Nami. I'll wait her."

"Are you sure?"

She smiles. "I'll be fine. We'll have coffee – even if I wasn't invited. Your mother won't know the difference.

xXx

Woohoo feb 29th!! Well hope you'll like this chap even not much really happens but I promise next _should _be better and if it isn't...I'll drown myself in the toilet

Reviews are very much appreciated


	4. Grade 6

FINALLY...I'm back XD. I actually had this ready to upload about a week ago but SOMEONE had deleted it! So I had to re-type it up again sigh Hopefully it will meet your guys' expectation...yes. Omj, JONAS BROTHERS in carling academy, Islington on 10th APRIL!! Yay.

Disclaimer: yeah we all know

xXx

_Come back to me... chapter 4_

I sit on the polished black bench at the grand piano thinking about mum handing me the keys to the car and how her fingers had been shaking. The pots of newly planted geraniums in Mrs Gainsborough's living room send my thoughts back to my mum on the edge of the balcony, 'admiring the view', her fingers curled around the empty flower basket. Now my own fingers are shaking and won't work. They slip and slide or hit two keys at once, causing Mrs Gainsborough to make annoying little noises. She's making one now.

"Hmmm. Try again a bit slower and hands separately."

I'm doing a C major contrary-motion scale. I've been doing it for almost four piano grades without effort, but today my left thumb decides to cross under too soon and I run put of fingers.

"Hmmm, let's try B flat major."

B flat major sounds wrong but I keep on with it, but then sit back with my hands clasped in my lap, my chin on my chest. I want to go home. I need to be at home. Be with my mum.

"Hmmm. How many flats are there in B flat major?" Mrs Gainsborough asks. She's not really upset, just disappointed, concerned.

"Two."

"Did you play two flats, Namine?"

"I guess not."

"No you didn't." She sips her cup of tea which sat on top on the piano." I suggest you find some time for concentrated practise this week. These are easy scales. The scales you played earlier are for your exam, and they were even worse, weren't they?"

I nod and let my eyes wander. I love this room – its Doulton, Royal Albert china ladies in the cabinet , seascape oil paintings, bronze candlesticks, and blue carpets. It's like Mrs Gainsborough with her beautiful brown hair and her blue eyes. Blue distracts me today. Sora's hair is blue. Sora is Roxas's cousin. Roxas has soft, shining eyes. He also has a Grandma Chii who thinks we're dating, who has empty eyes, who may be crazy. I think mum is going crazy.

"What are you going to do about this?" Mrs Gainsborough asks, breaking my train of thought.

"Practise more. Concentrate."

"I can't play your exam for you." She opens my studies book.

I glance sideways to see if she's really mad at me. Her face is neutral. She has always been my piano teacher and I like her very much, but at the moment, she is bugging me because I haven't practised enough and I've disappointed her. But mostly because I really don't want to be here. "Perhaps you're just having a bad scale day." She grins. "When my music teacher would make a mistake, she used to say she had washed her hands and couldn't do a thing with them. Have you been doing to many dishes lately?"

I attempt a smile. "We have a dishwasher."

She place one long, elegant hand on my forearm. "Something is troubling you. Is it anything you want to talk about? I remember when your dad –"

"Not right now."

She nods and pats my arm. "All right then. We have two options. You can go home and I keep the money for doing nothing. This would put you one week behind in preparation for your exam. Or you can try to shut out whatever is bothering you and concentrate. You might feel better after doing your pieces."

"I'll try."

"Excellent."

I work my way through the music. She says nothing other than 'Right', 'Thank you', 'Next one', or 'Hmmm'. At the end of the painful lesson, she leads me to the door. "Well, you'll be glad that's over," she says, not unkindly, "I sure am."

As I bend to tie my shoelaces, I have the urge to tell her to get lost and take the exam with her. I straighten up. "Mrs Gainsborough," I say, "I don't know if I'll be ready for my exam. I don't know if I'll be back."

"What?" Her shock gives me twinges of both conscience and pleasure. "You can't be serious, Namine. Musically speaking, your exam is around the corner. And it's paid for. I know you can do well. You've just had a couple of bad lessons. I'm sure you will be in fine form by-"

"I don't think so." I cast about for excuses. "I have a lot of homework. I won't have much time for piano."

"You've had homework before," she says, clasping her hands under her ample bosom. "Look, Namine. I can't make you come here. And I don't want you to come if you don't want to. But I want you to know that you are one of the finest pupils I have ever had the pleasure of teaching." She leans her concerned brow down into my face.

I swallow and don't move, in silent answer. She draws back. Sadness settles on her pretty face. "If you quit now, it will be a real shame."

I shrug and the ornate knob on the heavy wooden door. She covers my hand with hers. "Give it another few months," she says softly. "Do the exam. Then if you want to quit, well, at least you'll have your grade six. Think about it."

"I have thought about it." That was partly true.

"Well think more," she says, scowling. "Call me." We lock eyes, blue against blue, until I look away. She lifts her hand and I turn the handle.

"I hope to see you next week, Namine. Take care."

0o0

The air outside was cold; colder then I had expected. I tried to tuck my hands into the sleeves of my jacket as I continue walking down the, surprisingly, quiet road. I think of my mum again, is she really going mad? What would I do if that was the case? Also, I had been so...horrible to Olette. I need to make sure to call her tonight and give her the apology she deserves. Hopefully, she'll forgive me.

Even though the air was cold, I felt at ease as a walked down the empty path and since I was coming up to the neighbourhood park, I decided to take a slight longer route and go through, a nice walk would get my mind off things. Soon the silence was disturbed, as you a could hear wheels rolling down the path. I felt a little annoyed as I wanted 'peace' but they would pass me any minute now, a just as a thought that a sudden gush of wind violently brushed past me sending my let out hair to flap around wildly. It sent me a little off balance but I managed to recover, and just angrily starred at the skateboarder. Clearly, they were talented 'cause even though we were on a slight hill going down, he still managed to go really fast and seeming very well in control. He had a black helmet and his gold hair was sticking out at the end. For some reason this guy reminded of Roxas Hinogami.

"Roxas!"

Why the hell did I call out his name? I'm a complete idiot! No way such a cool guy could be Roxas. I mean, this is what you'd expect of Sora..

The skater turned around in hearing someone shouting; not the wise thing to do. As the path was bumpy, one of the wheels got caught in a small ditch and sent the skater crashing down. I just stood shocked for a moment and then rushed over to the skaters side.

"Oh my god! Are you okay?"

The boy was lying on the floor, whilst his helmet was covering his face. He smiled and tried to sit up. "Yeah...It happens a lot." I bent down and helped him to his feet, recognising his voice from _somewhere_. "It's funny I thought I heard someone call my name."

So it was Roxas, just to make sure... I lifted his helmet back on top of his head and looked him in the eyes. Yup, definitely Roxas.

He blushed slightly, "Ah...Namine..." I broke the stare and began heating up a little realising what I was doing. "Err...What you...up to?"

"I just came back from my piano lesson." It were as if the cool air had suddenly become like a hot summer day. "I had no idea that you skated!"

He bent down to pick up his black and red board. "Well I guess they don't really expect, me 'the smart kid' to be able to skate. I mean, Sora's more suitable for the role, right..." He looked a little down.

"That's not true!" I kind of jumped as I said it, making him also jump, "I believe that smart people should skate and...crush the jocks!" That didn't make any sense at all. I felt like an idiot with my hand up in the air. Roxas just started laughing. "Hehe, it would be nice if everyone thought like you."

This made me smile. "Well, if you want I could walk you home." Roxas asked. "I'd like that." We started continuing down the park path. Most of the way we'd find things to talk about and I had completely forgotten everything else that had happened until we reach eternal lane; my street.

"Hey, you okay?" Roxas asks.

"Yeah." I quickly say, being snapped back to reality, "Thanks for walking me home."

"No problem." He gets on his skateboard and disappears down the long road. I go inside the apartment and get to my door. I'm almost afraid to go in. My mother and Mrs Lockhart are watching the news on TV. After I hang up my jacket and put my shoes neatly in the closet, I drop my music case on the piano bench and perch on the arm of the couch.

Mum smiles. "Hey, Namine, how was your lesson?"

"Fine." She recognizes me!

"Ah, my least favourite F-word." She chuckles and her face suddenly beams with health and good humour. Her voice is relaxed and normal. Her hair is combed and held in place by two clips. Mrs Lockhart gets up off her seat. She winks at me as she passes. "We had a good time, right?" she tells me. "We talked about the weather and how beautiful you are getting to be." I smile slightly at the compliment. "We did up the sheets and remade the bed."

I follow her out.

"Oh yeah, Nami. You had one phone call," she says. She creases her brow. "Your dad." Mrs Lockhart looks at me, her expression one of deep distress. I move closer as she whispers, "I hope you don't mind, but when she was in the bathroom, I took the liberty of phoning the doctor. I found the number in Eileen's address book by the phone. I wrote the appointment on the calendar. I hope you'll forgive me, Namine. It was a real nosey thing to do." She smiles cheekily.

"Then why did you do it?" I whisper back hoarsely, choked by my nerve.

"Because she needs help."

"It's just stress," I say quickly. "Mr Bryant, her principal, told her to take some time off and see a doctor. She was probably going to make her own appointment pretty soon."

Mrs Lockhart looks doubtful. "Is it possible for you to get time off school to go with her?" I shoot a glance at my mum. She's channel surfing. "I'll check my timetable."

"Just be sure she keeps that appointment." Mrs Lockhart wags a finger at me. "It might be nothing at all. But it might be something serious."

I start closing the door. "Thanks you very much for all your help today."

"That's what neighbours and friends are for," she answers, unlocking her door. "I hope you'll forgive me for meddling." She gave a puppy eye look. What could a say? "Yeah sure."

"Oh right, who was that boy you were with?"

"What!?"That came as a surprise.

"Yeah, the cutie with the skateboard."

"A friend." I say so quickly it's amazing if she were able to understand.

"okay, okay, just make sure she goes to that appointment." She fires down the hallway.

Mum's voice makes me jump. She's right behind me. "Make sure I go where?" "Oh, em, Mrs Lockhart just wants to make sure you get your doctor's appointment," I stammer, throwing home the dead bolt and fixing the chain. I punch in the security alarm – my birthday, 26 08.

"Why wouldn't I keep it?" She puts her hands on her hips and rolls her eyes. "She is a funny old girl." I saunter to the kitchen. "What for supper?" She's right behind me again. "I don't know. What would you like? Maybe we could make something?"

"Maybe we could. How about some of your world famous lasagna?"

"You're on."

I wrap my arms around her. Maybe coffee with Mrs Lockhart brought Mum back to her old self. She squeezes me in a bear hug and then scratches her head.

"How, where did I put that hamburger meat?"

"The freezer."

"Well, of course." Mum laughs. "I was just kidding."

My delicate happiness is murdered. I don't believe her.

xXx

R n R thanks for reading!

'Scream, 'til you feel it, scream, 'til you believe it, scream, and when it hurts you scream out loud!'


	5. I am good at hurting your feelings

Well I took a long time...but it's 'cause when I start something new for my art project I just get loads of new ideas and I'm like, 'OMG I MUST DO THAT' or 'YES MISS IS GONNA BE SO PROUD!' Well what can I do it's my favourite subject. Plus it's pretty hard to think about what to write next, since I've made it pretty serious... I feel a boring chapter alert o.O I guess big things will start happening soon. Enjoy

xXx

When we're finished supper, I plod to my room and fall onto the pink and blue comforter. My room is pretty – white four-poster double bed and matching white furniture. All the cushions and chairs, even the curtains, are in blues, purples and pinks, with some green. In front of the window there's an old armchair with a blue crocheted afghan over one of the arms.

I get a sudden urge to paint everything – midnight blue would be nice or screaming scarlet, maybe rock-bottom black. Zigzags of orange or neon lime.

Olette phones at eight o'clock and apologizes for making me cry and run out of class. I tell her it's not her fault and say goodbye quickly.

When Olette phones back at eight thirty, she says she's coming over, regardless. She says we have to talk – she needs me and I need her. I don't know whether I do or not. Mum has me all confused.

When Olette arrives, Mum is taking a nap. Olette plops into her usual place in the old armchair and says, "So, talk."

I stall. I'm mostly to blame for this morning's scene, and she's the one who's apologized. I should say I'm sorry, but the words stick into my throat. And because I'm not talking, she does – rattling on about some new book she's reading and would I like to go to a movie with her on the weekend. She begins to tell me something about her mum and dad but I'm only half listening. Finally, I can't stand it any more.

"Could you please just be quiet?" I sound really snarly.

She looks hurt. "Sure, if that's what you want."

"It's just that everything is so weird right now." I blow my nose even though I'm not crying. "I'm getting scared to death about Mum. I don't know what to do. I never know what she'll be like when I walk through the door. She didn't recognise me in the parking garage today."

"Maybe she was thinking about something else."

"My own mother thought I was going to mug her and steal the car. I feel like I'm losing her. I've never been so scared in my whole life. Oh, Olette," I cry, "what if she doesn't get better?"

"You could live with us," she says, we shake our heads at the same time. "Nah, I suppose not." Like her family wasn't already big enough, I don't really think I'd make a great addition. She finishes with, there's always your dad."

"No way!" My fists clench at the thought. "He's always too busy. He doesn't have time for me. I'm gonna find out what's wrong with mum so we can fix it. I'm taking her to the doctor next month, thanks to Mrs Lockhart."

"If there's anything I can –" Olette starts.

"And my piano...what a crappy lesson! Mrs Gainsborough knows something's wrong."

Olette nods – she is listening. I pull another tissue from the box on my dresser. "When Dad left, I told Mrs Gainsborough everything – how I begged him not to go and then how I begged mum to let us go with him. I hated how angry they were. I hated how I felt inside...feel inside."

"I know," Olette says.

I give her a wobbly smile. "I think I hurt Mrs Gainsborough's feelings by not talking to her. I seem to be good at hurting people's feelings."

I stare out of the window at the trees across the river. Olette gives me time to say I'm sorry. I hear her sigh as she gives up hope.

"What happened to the nice, easy days – being a kid?" she says. "Swimming in the pool, tobogganing, skating at the park, pretending we were filthy rich and choosing what we'd buy from the catalogue, sitting on your balcony watching the river.

"Gone," I answer in a small voice.

She smiles. " I miss talking to you. I mean, really talking and munching on junk food. I've been so busy looking after my brothers and sisters and – I'm kinda like you – I never know what shape my mum's gonna be in. That's why I didn't show up last night. You know, when you with Kairi and Sora and the airheads. I bet they liked your new clothes and fancy jacket. Why'd you buy that thing anyway?"

"Because I wanted to." I shrug, trying to look nonchalant. "I wanted something different."

"Must've cost a fortune." She says. "Did you mother have a fit?"

"No, she hasn't even..." My voice trails off.

Olette comes to stand beside me. "Hasn't even noticed? She really _is _losing it. The jacket's OK. But it's so...so not you."

"Who says?"

She looks at me, hard, as if trying to see what's going on inside me. "And all this tight stuff you've been wearing?" She points at my outfit. "Is this you, too? We used to make fun of girls who look like that."

"Listen, Olette," I say, barely controlling my growling anger as my terrible day finally catches up with my emotions. " I'll wear what I want, when I want."

She folds her arms. "Just trying to find out what's going on in my best friend's life."

I fold my arms right back at her. "I thought friends weren't supposed to care about what you wore. I thought friends were friends no matter what."

Her eyes narrow. "Why are you so pissed off at me? I haven't done anything. _I'm _the one who should be mad. At you. Keeping things from me. Insulting my mother in public."

"Huh!" I spit out the words. "_That _was just the truth."

A veil falls over her eyes. "I think I should go now before we both say stuff we might regret."

"Good idea." My tone is perfectly even and perfectly cold as I open the bedroom door. "You may recall that I didn't invite you over tonight."

She pauses just outside my room. "You say your mum has changed. You've changed, too." Pity is written all over her face.

My blood begins to boil. "Maybe I haven't changed." I hiss. "Maybe this is the real me finally coming to the surface. What do you think of that?"

She doesn't argue or get mad – doesn't say anything. Just slips into her beat-up coat and goes out.

000

Dr Yuna Caswell's office is on the seventh floor of the Medical Arts Building. I sit staring out of the window at the heavy clouds. I think of how distant Olette and I have become. Then I think of Sora. Once or twice in the past month he's swaggered into the library and sat at my table. His roots are showing below the blue spikes of hair. I think about Ryan. He doesn't so much as glance in my direction when I see him in the library. But if he ever did, I'd like to talk about his Grandma Anne.

I look at my watch. Mum has been in with the doctor for almost half an hour. And we waited half and hour before that. My right leg jumps and wiggles a sure sign of my impatience.

The man across the small room is frowning at me. I don't know if it is because of my clothes or my dark lipstick or my restless leg. I get up and rifle through the old magazines in the rack by the doo. I choose one and sit down.

Dr Yuna comes out and signals to me. I go with her into one of the examination rooms. She's seems younger than mum. Her short brown hair is held back with a white headband which matches her long white coat.

"Namine, I wonder if I might ask you a few questions."

It's a statement, not a question. I nod.

"Your mother's getting dressed, so we only have a few minutes." She drums on the counter with her fingernails. "I'm a bit concerned. Are you?"

I shift in my chair. "That's the understatement of the year."

"Has she been exhibiting any strange behaviour? Acting out? Getting lost? Forgetting things?" she asks, still clicking her nails against the desk.

"It's just stress," I shrug.

"I'm not so sure about that, Namine. Please answer my question."

My heart sinks. "All those things."

"Can you give me any examples? Anything out of the ordinary?"

I look at her worried face. I guess if there is anywhere I should talk about the balcony and the kettle, its here, with this lady who has been my mother's doctor for years. But what if I give incriminating evidence and make things worse for mum?

Dr Yuna sighs. "I know this is hard, Namine, but nobody knows her better than you do. I need your help. She needs your help."

"Ok, OK," I say, picking at a non-existent thread in my skirt. "One day I came home from school and she was out on the balcony. She was on a stepladder, but she had one foot on the railing. She had this really weird look on her face, like she was going to jump. We live on the tenth floor." I stop. I can't meet Dr Yuna's eyes, so I blink at the chart on the wall behind her.

"What did you do?"

"I tried to get her to come down, but I don't think she heard me."

"How did you get her down?"

"I didn't. The phone rang. She turned around, did this quick little jump and answered the phone like nothing was wrong."

"Did you question her about it?"

"She said she was fixing her hanging basket and admiring the view."

"How did she seem after wards?"

"Like normal."

"Really?" Dr Yuna's pen is flying across the yellow lined paper.

"Ok, not so normal. We had a fight over the fact that she put the electric kettle on the stove to boil."

"Has she been losing her temper a lot lately?"

"More than a lot."

"How long would you estimate she has been acting strangely?"

"A couple of years, maybe. But lately, she's been getting worse. Really bizarre. She's been going out for walks – without a coat, without boots."

"I understand that it was the principal from her school who suggested she come to see me, is that right? Do you know what happened there?"

"Not really. You'll have to ask her."

"I did. She doesn't know why, except that the principal says she can't control her classes. There seems to be quite a lot she doesn't know." Dr Yuna says, rising. "Right now, we'll get your mother some tests. That way we can discover if there is an organic cause for behaviour."

"Organic?" I leap to my feet. "Like a disease? Isn't it just stress?"

"I don't think so, Namine."

"Depression?"

"Maybe, but –"

"But what?" I'm trying not to panic.

"Let me get the lab results, OK?" She opens the door. "We don't want to jump to any conclusions."

"Is there anything I should be doing – like right now?"

I want to grab her by the lapels and shake her until I get an answer, a cure, pills. Something.

She ushers me out. "I'd like you to keep a record for me. You know, if you notice anything different, or if she gets worse, that sort of thing. And, please, call me anytime, particularly if you think she is going to hurt herself." She pauses. "Or you. Probably your father should me more involved. Take care, Namine. I'll see you soon."

That's it. Class dismissed. Just drop a few bombs and walk away. Get my father involved? I don't think so. He's too busy to be involved with me, never mind mum. After their last disastrous meeting. I doubt he wants to be in the same room with her.

I follow Dr Yuna into the waiting room, where she calls in the frowning man. Mum is waiting by the desk, clutching a fistful of lab requisitions and talking to the receptionist. Mum's top two buttons are done up wrong.

I rush to her, laughing lightly.

"Oh, Mum, can't take you anywhere." I fix the blouse.

"How embarrassing," she says, growing pink. "I didn't notice."

"You're worse than a little kid." We should both get Oscars.

We make a quick exit. Mum pushes the button for the elevator and leans against the wall.

"Dr Yuna asked me so many questions," she says. "And I had to draw this stupid square and triangle thing. You know how bad I am at drawing."

I laugh. "Yeah, you can't even draw stick people." I definitely know I didn't get my talent from mum.

She shakes her head. "I didn't do a very good job on the square. Dr Yuna was surprised, even though she tried to hide it. And then I had to count backwards from a hundred by sevens. Who can do that? Can you?"

"100, 93, 86, 79, 65, 58."

"I couldn't get past 93." Her eyes are flooding with tears, but she keeps smiling. "Have you ever tried to recite the months of the year backwards?"

I close my eyes. "December, November, October, September, August."

"August comes before September, doesn't it?"

"Yeah. If you're saying them forwards."

"Damn!"

She rubs her forehead and looks so sad that I reach out and touch her arm. "I'm sorry, Mum."

"I'm sorry, too," she whispers. "Sometimes is happening to me. Every now and then the light goes on; I'm in a completely different place. People talk to me like they are my best friends and I haven't a clue who they are."

The elevator lets us out and we enter the lab, I hold her purse and coat while she gives blood and urine samples and has a chest X-ray. Finally, she emerges, pale and limp and complaining of a dreadful headache.

All the way home on the bus, she keeps her eyes shut and her head resting on the window. She won't talk to me. We stop in the lobby to get the mail. She does a quick once-over of the letter and bills while we enter our apartment and then drops the pile of envelopes onto the kitchen table.

"You read them," Mum says. She tosses her coat across a wingback and kicks off her shoes.

"But you always read the mail. I thought it's one of the things you look forward to. You read it. I'll make us some soup for lunch. I gotta get to school."

She glares at me and goes into the bathroom. I follow her and watch as she reaches into the medicine cabinet for the extra-strength painkillers – the ones with codeine that she has left over from a sinus infection. She wrestles with the bottle, trying to get the cap off. Frustrated she thrusts it at me.

"You do it." And then, almost as an afterthought, "Please."

One quick twist and strong flip of the childproof lid and it opens. She grabs the bottle, shakes out two pills and crunches them with her teeth.

"Yuck!" I screw up my face. "Aren't you going to drink some water with those?"

"Good idea," she says, as if I'd come up with some new concept, and fills the blue glass with water. I watch as she swallows. She gives me the half-empty bottle to cap, which I do with a loud snap.

"Mum, there seems to be a lot of mail. Didn't you get it yesterday?"

She gives me a stupid grin. "Dunno." She pushes past me. "Look, Namine, I'm not hungry. I'm going to bed to get rid of this headache."

I follow here to her bedroom. "You should eat. Maybe some food will..."

Mum's room looks like a hurricane has torn through. The duvet is on the floor, the sheets in a heap beside a pile of other clothes. The oak dresser is littered with underwear and bits of white paper. Several books, all open, look as though they have been swept aside and left where they fell.

"Oh don't worry about me," Mum says, gathering the duvet and crawling onto her bed. "You have lunch and go to school. I'll see you when you get home."

I back out and close the door quietly. Something is very, very wrong.

I decide not to make soup, so I won't have to tidy up. Instead, I reach for some crackers, a cheese slice and a cola, which I gulp down while starring out of the sliding door. In the breeze, the hanging basket sways on its loose hanger, sending a shiver down my spine.

I stick my arms into my vinyl jacket and my feet into my Mary J Vans pumps, although I know I should wear my parka and felt – lined boots because it's snowing. I set the alarm and leave. But as the door clicks behind me, I panic – what if something happens to Mum?

Across the hall, Mrs Lockhart's door is slightly ajar. I knock. "Mrs Lockhart? Can I speak to you please? Mrs Lockhart?"

She sticks her head out. "Oh, hey, Namine. Everything all right?"

"I only have a few seconds," I say, quickly fumbling in my backpack for a piece of paper and pen. I scribble down the alarm clock. "Here's the key and this is our security number. Mum is in her bedroom sleeping."

"Oh yeah, did you go to the doctor?"

"Yes, and now she has a headache."

"The doctor has a headache?"

"No, my mum."

"I know that, Nami. I was just making a little joke." She chuckles behind her hand.

"I gotta go."

"OK," she calls as I take off down the hall at a jog. "I'll keep my door open a bit so I can hear if there are any noises."

xXx

Well, if you got a little confused (like me) she misses the beginning of school... R n R


	6. Invitation

Finally SATs has come...and so has another chapter XD

...

I'm late. I take the seat beside Olette, but she doodles in her notebook and ignores me. Not surprising.

"Glad you could join us, Namine" says Mr Strife. Olette and I think he's so handsome. His blue eyes sparkle beneath his eyebrows as he peers at me.

I give a sheepish grin. Mr Strife nods and a strand of hair falls forward. From habit, I glance at Olette for her reaction – some habits are hard to break. But she looks away without her usual smile.

When the bell goes, I start after Olette. I went to tell her about Mum, but Mr Strife steps in front of me and I almost run into his lilac shirt.

"Sit down, Namine," he orders. I sit. "I've been hearing some strange things about you. Running out of a class. Skipping – you've missed an essay outline, by the way."

"I had to take my mother to a doctor's appointment."

"Really?" His tone annoys me. He thinks I'm lying. "If she's that ill she should've been taken by an ambulance. Or maybe she's forgotten how to drive."

How dare he talk to me like this? I have high marks...well, up until the last few months. I refuse to acknowledge the tiny voice inside reminding me that I didn't have a note for missing the morning, and I haven't done a stitch of homework in three days. Besides he's right. Mum _is_ that ill and she _has_ forgotten how to drive. She can't even unlock the car door.

"I'm telling the truth. We took the bus."

"Sure. Listen, here's some more truth. I've noticed a big difference in you since Christmas. Your grades are dropping, not a lot, but enough." He smiles slightly. "You're such a fine student I don't want you to blow it. I want to nip this thing in the bud. Understand?" he says, straightening his tie.

"Yes, sir." I hope my voice remains neutral.

"I've been teaching long enough to know the signs of a student in trouble. You're a good kid. Hang in there."

Olette is lounging just outside. I want to throw my arms around her and sob with relief, but I can't move.

"Boy, Strife figures you're turning into the next high-school drop-out by the sound of it." She clicks her tongue. "Your marks must really be getting bad – way down in the nineties instead of hundreds?"

I don't need her sarcasm but I don't want to get into another argument. "In the subjects I don't like. I just don't see the point."

"I sweat my brains out and get seventy-five," Olette says. "You don't bother to study, or you forget, and still ace tests. You're lucky, you know. You shouldn't blow it." She flips her long hair over her shoulder. "So, I just want to tell you I know what it's like to be so messed up in your head that you can't think straight. I just wanted to tell you that. Anyway, I've got grocery shopping to do tonight and tons of other stuff."

She seems uncomfortable - like she's trying to patch things up before leaving town or something.

I want to keep her with me, want to say more but don't know what. "I want to tell you about..." I call out but she hurries away. I get my books and head for my next class, a cold loneliness settling in my heart.

"Hey, Namine."

Sora pushes through the crowd and holds out his arms wide.

"I'm taking a poll. What do you think?"

I'm speechless. His hair is short - and it's brown! His grin fades as he waits for my answer.

"Nice."

A huge grin splits his face as he backs down the stairs.

He points his imaginary gun at me and fires.

000

Olette and I have managed to avoid each other for the past two weeks. We've taken to sitting on opposite sides of the classroom, and I've noticed she's missed more school than usual. Today, she sneaks out early while Mrs Kovacs, the maths teacher, shakes her fist at her remaining students, the loose skin of her upper arm wagging.

"And make sure you have the answers to these equations on my desk by Wednesday," she rasps. "Or else I'll track you down and cause you grievous bodily harm. Remember, I know where you live. This is my last year teaching, and I don't want any of you flunking my class."

Some kids groan, some laugh. She's timed her threat for right before the bell goes, to end our Friday with a bang.

I stare at her as she moves slowly in front of the neatly written maths on the whiteboard. I wonder if I really can get this assignment done, with all the other homework I've put off. She fires me a bright, cheerful smile as I leave the classroom.

Olette's coat and many of her books are gone from out locker by the time I get there. Just as well. What would I say? Except that perhaps we are both being over sensitive. I know that she always likes to beat the Friday night mob at the grocery store and so I know, in my hearts, that this time she's not intentionally avoiding me. It just feels that way.

I stuff texts and notebooks into my backpack and carry those that won't fit. I feel like a mule as I make my way across the student parking lot. Sora and Roxas are leaning against the wall. Kairi is batting her eyelashes at Roxas.

Sora waves, positively beaming, but it's Roxas's slow smile that gets me.

"Hi, Namine," Sora says.

I nod and mutter hello to him and Kairi. Then I give Roxas a direct stare and say, "How's it going?"

"Ok," he replies, turning bright pink. "How's it going with you?"

"OK."

"That's good, Well, I'd better get home. Bye."

So much for my brilliant conversational ability. Darn! I watch him walk away. He has a powerful stride, as though he's ready to take on the world.

Kairi sighs. "I don't get it. What's with that guy? He's so...I dunno...so hard to reach. Look at him walking like he owes nothing to nobody."

"Who knows what's up his nose," Sora mutters. "He's starting to bug me, big time."

"Whatcha doin' this weekend?" Kairi asks me.

I blurt out an answer. "I've got tons of homework."

"We're having a party tonight," she says. "Wanna come?"

"I don't know."

Sora takes a deep breath. "It's at me house. My parents are going to a wedding On Destiny Islands for the weekend. I can't go, because some one has to stay home to feed that excuse for a dog. That somebody would be me and Roxas. They figure Roxas will keep the place in one piece."

"Everybody's coming over around nine." Kairi looks down her nose at me even though I'm taller.

"So late?" I ask, immediately feeling like a jerk. "It's just that, well, my mum doesn't like me out too late. I'm usually home by eleven."

"Come one." Sora gives me one of his adorable grins. "It'll be fun."

"I'll have to check the bus times."

My heart is jumping around. Olette and I have wondered about these parties. I shouldn't go without her, but Friday nights her mother goes out, and Olette has to stay home to take care of her brothers and sisters after shopping.

"I call you later," I tell them. "It all depends on how my mum is feeling."

"Whatever!" answers Kairi. "And don't bring that nerdy friend of yours. What's her name? Oh yeah, Olette."

It is only due to years of practise that I make it all the way home without losing control of the heavy books clutched to my chest. I manage to unlock the lobby door, press the elevator button and get into out apartment.

Then I drop everything.

...

R n R Wish me luck people


	7. To laugh or to cry

o.O Sorry for taking so long...But I finally managed to get some done =) I'll make sure the next chapter is updated REALLY soon.

Yeah this chapter just helps the story progess a bit...not really interesting...TT^TT

* * *

Photograph albums lie scattered, plastic pages torn, recklessly tossed along the hallway and into the living room. Mum is sitting, cross-legged in the middle of it all, with each and every photograph in her lap, around her feet or pressed to her chest. When she looks up, it's clear she's been crying. She is still wearing the clothes she went to the doctor's office in and then slept in.

"Hi, Mum," I say in a low voice as I remove my shoes and vinyl jacket. No answer. I skirt around the album labelled 'Namine: Elementary School' and dump my books on the desk in my bedroom.

How could she! Those albums contain my life, not just hers. But she seems so pathetic and so sad that my temper settles down. I sigh and lean against the bedroom door to close it.

The sound of my mother's sobs breaks through. I wonder if I can be trusted not to strangle her. I change into jeans and a pink t-shirt and take several deep breaths before leaving my room.

I sit beside Mum and put my arms around her shaking shoulders.

"What's wrong?" I ask softly. "Why did you take all the photos out of the albums?"

"It must've taken a long time."

I'm not sure what she's talking about, so I guess.

"You mean to get the photos all arranged? Not really. We did it bit by bit-"

She waves her hand in my face. "No, daughter, it must've taken a long time for me to get like this."

Daughter?

"Crazy," she says, wiping her nose on the back of my hand. "A long time to get crazy."

"You're not crazy, Mum." I give her a little hug. "You're just stressed."

"This is not stress." She takes in the scattered memories on the floor with a swoop of her arm. "This is insanity. I took them all out."

"Why _did _you take them all out?" I look down on a wedding picture of her and Dad taken on the footbridge on sunset hill. Apart from a few fine wrinkles around her eyes, she doesn't look much different, although Dad's black hair is streaked with grey now.

And there's the photo of dad and me building a sandcastle at the beach. Another of us horseback riding. One of me at five years old, dress as a dragon for Halloween, holding Dad's hand. Mum and Dad at the hospital with a newborn baby, me, in Dad's arms.

Mum blinks at me. "I don't know anybody in these pictures. Why do I have pictures of strangers? It makes me very sad and very lonely. I recognize myself in some – and you. Who are these other people?"

She looks so blank I figure it would be useless to start telling her who everybody is. I get her to the couch and hand her a tissue and the remote control. Immediately, she starts surfing.

This can't be happening. As I choke back my tears, I gather the memories into heaps, close the albums and put them back in the bookcase drawers. One day, when I have time, I'll sort them all out.

"It must've taken a long time," she says again. "A long time."

Did it take a long time? Or was it sudden?

I mentally check off all the weird happenings – the balcony, the kettle, the walking back and forth, the bathroom, her bedroom, the laundry soap, her arguing, the car keys, the mail, her mind games with Dad and now this. She seems to know she's not well, but the 'why' slips away as she reaches for it.

The dome clock chimes five. I should practise my piano, but what for? Yesterday, on the phone, I told Mrs Gainsborough I wouldn't be coming back. Again. But I _could_ do twenty minutes, or scales, or just the sonatina – but I'm not in the mood.

"A long time." Mum shakes her head.

"I'm going to make supper."

She jumps up. "I'll help, daughter."

"I'm only warming up leftovers." I can't help being annoyed at how she is right beside me, yet can't remember my name.

"That's great." A smile brightens her red-rimmed eyes. "Anything I can do?"

"The microwave will do all the work," I retort, unable to control my sarcasm.

Her brightness fades and she returns to the couch with her shoulders slumped. I put two portions on plates and into the microwave. While they are heating, I pour two glasses of milk, set the table, not forgetting napkins – which were a must for my once etiquette-conscious mother – and plug the kettle for tea. When the microwave bell dings, I call Mum to the table. I have to remind her to wash her hands, and she does like an obedient child. I join her at the table after making a pot of tea.

Dinner is silent, so different from when we'd tell each other about how the day went. I think of Olette as I push a microwave-hardened piece of pasta around. Olette is always going on about how well Mum and I communicate and how lucky I am.

"Mum, you know Sora Tsurumi?"

No answer.

I keep trying, "He has this cousin..."

Her eyes are empty – like I'm not here. I puff out my checks and blow out a stream of exasperated air. What's the point?

I push my plate away. Mum is stuffing her face. When she looks hungrily at my half-eaten food, I give it to her, and she inhales that too. Tomato sauce rings her mouth. The napkin remains untouched.

Dr Yuna's request for a list suddenly seemed like a good idea, and I excuse myself to start one. I include everything I can think of – and when they happened – so I can compare them to...whatever might come next.

I half shut the bedroom door and decide to start with maths before Mrs Kovacs causes me grievous bodily harm. The numbers and signs swim in front of my eyes. I give up and start in on the novel I have to read, but it's such a depressing story that I toss it aside. I do better with my grammar and finish most of my assignment.

The digital clock reads seven-thirty. I go get a drink.

The table is not cleared. Tomato sauce and bits of cheese are stuck to the plates and forks. Milk is forming stubborn circles on the bottoms of the glasses. Mum's cup is clean. The teapot is still full. Mum is channel surfing. I don't say anything but make a lot of noise to let her know she could at least help clean up. I can't stand that blank stare. The silence is terrible. And she says _she _feels lonely!

Olette must be home by now. I decode to quit being stupid about our relationship and phone her.

"I'm busy," she says as soon as she finds out it's me. "I've got to-"

"I hate this!" I interrupt and go through the whole supper thing.

"Talk to your dad." Olette sounds as though she's softening slightly. "This is a family problem, Namine, not just your problem."

My voice is tight and squeaky. "I don't want another family problem."

"Don't cry!" she says with some of her usual sympathy. "But this obviously isn't something you can deal with on your own any more. And I can't help you!"

I sniff. "Remember when we were little – when Mum let us help her make cookies, weed the flower garden. She'd take us out for supper once a month – or more when Dad was really busy working. And every Christmas going to ballet. Remember all those trips to the library? We'd come home with _so _many books. She never goes anywhere now."

"Namine, I've gotta go!"

"Even though she's sick or stressed, whatever, I figured-"

Olette shouts at someone at her house. "I'm coming!" Then to me she says, "I can't talk now, even though _you've suddenly_ found the time."

"I mean, I've heard of old people getting senile and losing their minds, and Mum _was _thirty when she had me, but she's not that old."

"Namine, please I-"

"My own mother has forgotten my name! Does that mean she doesn't want to remember? That she doesn't want me around?"

"Look, Namine. I've gotta hang up now. Bye!"

000

The door knocker rat-a tat-tats. A brief glance around the kitchen and living room to make sure everything is tidy and then I swing open the door.

"Hi, Namine. Are you ready?" says dad, hugging me. "How come I had to meet you here instead of down the road? I'm not real comfortable with this – after last time."

"How's work?" I ask, indicating for him to sit down.

He peers down the hallway. "Where's your mother?"

"Oh, she's in her room." I try to smile but my lips are getting ready to quiver.

He raises his eyebrows and looks like he wants to ask a million questions. He perches on the edge of the couch. Olette's right. I need his help.

"How's work?" I ask again.

"Work's work," he replies. His standard answer. "Keeping busy. I'm lining up job crews for summer. Some new buildings happening on the outskirts of town." He leans forward. "But I'd rather talk about you – about us - you and me. I don't like how things are. I don't see you enough. But I don't think this is the place to talk about –"

"I don't want to get into that." I say. Surprise registers on his face. "Mum's in her room. I want to talk to you quickly, before she realises you're here. I think Mum is sick."

"Sick? How?"

"Shhh. I don't want her to hear."

"I think you'd better start at the beginning."

I take a deep breathe. "I don't know when the beginning is, but that day you called and she asked you to come here, Mr Bryant, the principal sent her home from school and told her to go see a doctor.

"And?"

"And when I got home from school that day, I..." What do I tell him? _How _do I tell him? "I found her at the edge of the balcony. I was sure – still am sure – she was thinking about jumping off. Then we had this big-fight about the kettle. She thought it was the kind that you boil on the element instead of an electric one. She would've melted the thing if I hadn't stopped her. And there's more – Mum has had a bunch of blood tests but she has to have a CT scan and a puncture or something."

"Namine," he says softly, touching my hand. "What are they testing for? Do you know?"

I pull my hand away and shake my head. "I just want you to see if you notice anything wrong while you're here."

He leaps off his feet and starts for Mum's bedroom. "It's time or me to talk to her - sick or not. I need to get some things straight."

"Wait. You don't understand..." I whisper hoarsely. He glares at me for what feels like a long time. "Is that so?" Then he knocks. "Eileen, it's me, Kosuke."

"Who?"

"Kosuke."

"Who?"

Dad glances at me, confusion growing in those familiar grey eyes. "It's me, Kosuke, your husband."

"Ex-husband." I reminded him.

"Go away!" Mum shouts.

He shouts back. "Stop fooling around, Eileen! Come out and talk to me or I'll come in."

"Go away. I'm not ready to see you."

"What do you mean, not ready to see me? What's to gat ready?" He barges in.

The room isn't the same mess I has seen earlier. But it isn't the room that has Dad stopping dead in his tracks, it's Mum. I gasp in disbelief.

Her blonde hair is piled high and clasped at the side by a diamante clip. Diamond drop earrings sparkle just above the single strand of glowing diamonds at her throat. Her dress is a shimmering creation of azure.

"Going somewhere?" I ask, finally getting past my shock.

"Just trying it on," she says. "I was thinking how long it's been since I went out anywhere special."

"You look fantastic." Dad says.

A bright smile flashes across her face. The childish pleasure in her eyes rips at my guts.

"So, why don't you take me to dinner?" She asks him.

Dad's jaw falls. "I'm not exactly dresses for it, but if you'd like we could go to that new restaurant downtown."

"Terrific," she answers, slipping past us and into the hallway.

"But, Mum," I say, grabbing her arm, "you just ate. Remember?" She gently dislodges my fingers and smiles like I'm some silly little kid.

"I thought you said she was sick," Dad mouths at me behind her back, and then in a normal voice says, "What about you, Namine? Wanna join us? It's been a long time."

I wouldn't mind doing the family thing but I'd rather go to Sora's. "I think I might go to Olette's for a while, if that's OK."

Why don't I just tell them the truth? Maybe I'm afraid they won't let me go to Sora's because his folks are out of town. Maybe it's just easier to lie. Dad takes a coat for Mum from the closet – he still looks stunned by her glamour – opens the door and steps into the hall. Mum comes over and pecks me on the cheek. She's overdone the perfume.

"Be good," she says. "You really don't mind if I go out with him, do you?"

"Since when do I have any say in what you do?"

She grins. "I'll show those doctors there's nothing wrong with me. Bye, daughter."

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I flop onto Mum's messy bed. Something sharp pokes me in the back. It's a hanger and on it is the price tag.

A thousand dollars! No wonder she didn't say anything when I bought my vinyl jacket.

I pull Dr Yuna's list from my pocket and add the dress and dinner with Dad. Maybe Dr Yuna will have some answer next time.

An uncomfortable sadness seeps into my bones. My mum is slipping away from me in some unnatural, painful way. She is somehow trapping me and shutting me out at the same time, and there is no help for either of us.

I reach for the phone.

* * *

lol I included the summary XD

Please 'R n R' It makes me happy^^


	8. Alzheimer

Super quick update or what?!........o.O

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**Happy 2009 everyone^^ !!!!!!!!!!!!!**

* * *

An hour later, I press Sora's doorbell. He lets out an appreciative whistle when the wind blows my unbuttoned jacket open.

"Look at you! And those legs! Wow!"

I manage a hello and head for the bathroom to brush my hair and touch up my lipstick. I smooth out my short black dress and check that the skinny ties at the shoulders are tight over my white T-shirt. I can only hope that my make-up doesn't look stupid. And that, unlike Mum, I don't have on too much perfume.

Sora's small house is pulsating with the thump-thump-thump of bass speakers. He ushers me in through the kitchen, where pop bottles and potato chips litter the counters and table. He pushes me into a living room the size of my bedroom – it's packed. Every piece of furniture holds a person. The wood and glass coffee table has three girls propped on it. My mother would freak. Kids sit in corners, on cushions all over the floor or against the doorframe. Some are lounging against the walls, deep in conversation...some a little _deeper_. I know most of them from school or the community centre. Everyone has a drink of some kind. Two girls are smoking over by the open window. I can hear them talking – about graduation, which is coming up in two months.

Roxas nods at me from the floor. He's sitting in the dimmest corner.

Selphie glances over at me from her perch on the arm of the couch. She's in Jeans and a green ribbed top. Her read hair is caught back in a velvet headband. Rikku, totally cool in a short yellow dress, is flipping through some CDs and doesn't look up.

Kairi waltzes over – "So you made it. You never cease to amaze me." – and waltzes back to her throne, an extremely comfortable-looking chair. Her blue silk top hangs almost to her knees, black tights hug her legs. I feel ridiculous. I don't fit in here – all these popular people. I'd rather be warm and relaxed with Olette.

Sora hands me a plastic glass. "Here. Hope you like it."

I take a sip and find it very pleasant, so I take a gulp.

"Turn down the music!" Sora screams. "I can't make polite conversation. Turn it down!"

"Hey, Namine," calls Hayner. "I figured you'd bring Olette."

"She couldn't come." I do believe he looks disappointed. She's be over the moon, but I refuse to think about what she's going to say when and if I tell her I went to this party without her.

The boys get talking, and I fade into the general noise of the room. I meander over to the different groups of girls and have fairly decent conversations. Time goes by quickly and pleasantly enough until Sora starts to tell a joke about a priest, a rabbi and a minister having dinner in a restaurant. All at once I get the ridiculous image of Mum in her expensive dress in a classy restaurant with her ex-husband, doing...saying...who knows what. It's weird. I start to laugh, not a giggle, but a real stomach-splitting bellow. I think I'm hysterical.

"What's so funny?" asks Selphie. "Has he got to the punch line?"

I can't answer, so I head for the kitchen. The first thing I see is a blue tea kettle on the back element of the stove. I bury my hands in my hair.

"Hey, what's this?" Kairi strolls in with Selphie.

"Mum tried to boil out electric kettle."

With that, out pours all of Dr Yuna's list. When I stop, Selphie has my head on her shoulder. Kairi, the snow queen, seems unsympathetic.

"What are you gonna do?" cries Selphie. "You can't live with someone like that."

"But she's my mum!"

"Sounds to me likes she's schizo or something. Blow your nose," Kairi barks.

I accept the tissue and wipe my face.

"Oh, Namine," sighs Selphie. "It's gonna be OK."

"I dunno about that," says Roxas from the doorway.

"How long have you been there?" asks Selphie.

"Long enough." He grabs a chair and straddles it. He is so close that I can see the pores on his nose. "Has this been going on for a while, Namine?"

Gulping, I nod. "A couple of years anyway."

"Getting worse though, huh? Does she know who you are? All the time?"

"Just sometimes."

He looks at me. Hard. "It could be Alzheimer's."

"Old Timer's disease?" Selphie looks amazed.

"Can't be!" I sob. "She's only forty-four!"

"Don't call it Old Timer's disease, Selphie," Roxas says quietly. "It's not just old people who get it."

"What do you know about it?" I snap.

He takes a deep breath. "My grandmother has Alzheimer's."

Grandma Chii, the tiny lady with the vacant eyes, the one who thought Roxas and I were dating again? But she was old! The thought of my mum becoming like that...

"Maybe you should go home," says Kairi. "You're not much fun."

"If you do want to go. I could take you." Roxas offers.

"Yes, please." I whisper.

Just then, Sora bursts in, his eyes sparkling.

"Namine's going home," Kairi tells him.

"I'm taking her," Roxas adds.

"Now way. I'll take her," Sora says, sticking out his chin.

Kairi places one slender arm around Sora's shoulders. "You should stay here. It's your house. Besides, I need to talk to you about the grad dance."

Sora flicks his eyes from me to Kairi and back again. "Oh, all right."

Roxas gets my jacket.

The cool night air wraps around me. I concentrate on trying to miss the biggest puddles of melting snow. That way I don't have to talk to Roxas. But he tries to talk to me.

"Sora is Kairi's boyfriend, more or less," he says as we stand at the bus stop. "Best you know that."

"Of course I know that. You're new here, not me!" I glare at him. He is illuminated by the street-light, smiling gently, sadly.

"Why'd you start hanging out with this bunch anyway? You're not like them. You're smart and...and pretty."

My head jerks up to see if he's making fun of me. But he's peering down the street at the approaching bus.

"Sora and his friends are only interested in sports. Except Hayner. He's OK. The others are just jerks and jocks."

"Which are you?" I counter. "A jerk or a jock?"

He tries not to laugh. "Neither, I hope. I'm kind of tired of the whole load of them." An uncomfortable pause before he says, "You going to grad?"

"Probably, but it doesn't seem that important any more. And my piano exam is the same day. If I take it. Piano is one of those things I can't concentrate on right now."

The bus pulls up, and I stop Roxas from following me up the narrow steps. "No. I can get home all right from here. Thanks."

I quickly make my way to the far corner of the back seat, keeping my head down so me hair hides my face. As the bus moves off, I look through the back window. Roxas raises his hand in a wave.

* * *

This chap was way more fun to write....I need to hurry up with this!

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